Eyes Like The Sky
by Ave de Sol
Summary: When my soul was shattered, you collected the broken pieces of me and kept me from being swept away. When Nessie pushes Jacob away, will anything be able to keep him alive? Jacob/OC, 25yrs post-BD
1. Prologue

Prologue

"You don't…Love me Jacob." She glared at me, chocolate brown eyes glimmering with unshed tears. "Not really. You've 'imprinted' on me." She sobbed, and the pain in my heart tore through my soul, breaking, shattering every part of me into pieces.

"Nessie, I-"

"No." She looked at me, my heart, my life. She looked at me with dead eyes, eyes that no longer would glimmer and smile when she saw me. She looked at me with eyes that were no longer mine.

"There is nothing you can say. Five years now you've stood by me because of a 'magical bond' and, Nothing. More." She wiped her sleeve across her eyes angrily.

"You never…loved me. It was an instinct." She spat out the words, eyes flashing in anger.

"A mating instinct so you could carry on your little _werewolf tribe._" She cried, and I could so nothing but watch as the point of my existence thrust me away from her, thinking that all I ever felt was a compulsion, that there was no real love involved. How very wrong she was.

"Never come back…dog." She ran, back turned, without a single look back at me.

As my heart broke in half, all I could do was fall to the ground, feeling Jacob Black crumble into ashes.

_And somewhere, hundreds of miles away, a baby was thrust into the world, without a sound._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

~20 YEARS LATER~

"**The shades and shadows **

**Undulate in my perception**

**My feelings swell and stretch**

**I see from greater heights**

**I understand **

**What I am still too proud**

**To mention**

**To you"**

**-Fiona Apple, Never is a Promise**

Most babies cry when they're born. I was born with tears running down my cheeks, and my eyes wide open. My mother always said I was born crying without sound because the sadness and tears were for someone else. My eyes were always my best feature as a baby, and even now they're very nice. I had eyes such a light blue they looked like the sky was trapped in them.

With a thick layer of black hair, and not-quite-dark-but-not-really-light color of skin, I looked quite odd. My mother, Joanna, known to me as JoJo or Mami, wanted to name me Sky, but my father, Brad, insisted I be named Robin instead. He said I wasn't the sky, but someone who had visited there often. My father always was the philosophic type.

My own childhood was filled with happy memories. Mami and Papa were the perfect couple, never angry, and never fighting. My brother, Mark, adored me, and was so protective that he often wouldn't let me walk in front of him, because he said, "If anything jumps in front of me, or there's a bee, or a trap, I'll get caught instead of you!" Sometimes I worried about his mental health.

I was never a dumb child. I never had to worry about school, because even my brother's homework and what he was learning was easy for me. I graduated only a year after my brother, despite the fact he was three years older. Even me graduating at 15 didn't change the way he thought about me. I was still his little sister.

I had always been fascinated with animals, but it was only when we visited La Push for the first time that I became truly transfixed. It was there, at the age of eleven, that I was to earn the nickname "Bird", given to me by my lifelong friend, Cassandra Taylors, after I risked my life to save a baby bird stranded on a rock in the middle of one of the famous sleeper wave coves. I almost drowned.

When I fist met Cass, however, she was only 10, whereas I was 11. She was sitting on her cousin, Embry's knee, giggling as he tickled her. After a while, Embry set her down and smiled at his girlfriend, Grace Mariacha. As I remembered, they had only been together for a year or so, yet everyone treated them as a married couple. Everything seemed set in stone.

Back to the point. When Cass first saw me, walking next to my mom, who was laughing with her best friend Rachel, and her husband Paul, she ran right over to me and whispered into my ear, "We're gunna be goooood friends!"

She was right.

For eight years we visited each other through letters and email, and every once in a while, a phone call or two. Despite the year or so differences in our ages, no one was ever better friends for me then Cass. We emailed each other daily, and pictures came every week or so. We didn't ever want to forget each other's faces.

But after the eight years past, and I learned what the word "sad" meant, I stopped emailing…or writing…or anything. I was dead.

The day I stopped living was the day I learned my mother and father were dead.

I was 19 at the time, and I was studying hard with my brother, who was doing his second year exams, when I was finishing up my fourth year. I had been taking all sorts of classes, but writing was what I was going to focus on. I was hoping to become a writer.

Besides writing, I was also very interested in Biology, and I already had taken over 6 semesters of it, along with my various writing classes. I was going to be done that year, and my brother was going to NY for 5 years with a group of his friends to a special, brand-new science college. I was going to stay in Hawaii with my parents until I got my first poetry book published, and hopefully get enough money to get up onto my feet. At least, that's what was supposed to happen.

But when my parents didn't come back from their spa trip the first night, or the second, me and my brother made some calls.

My parents had never even checked into the spa. They had been rammed into by a drunk runaway, and their gas tank exploded.

No one survived the crash.

I had no idea where to turn, or what to do. I had nothing. For the rest of the year all I did was work, then go to college, then eat, then sleep. I didn't live, I just survived.

Mark saved me.

He brought me out of my state, and "Woke me up." He told me to get up and keep living, because that's what Mami and Pop would've wanted me to do. It took me months to recover, to stop being a Zombie. But I did it.

And there you have it.

The reason I'm on this fricken plane.


	3. Chapter 2

**(AN: Hey! How are you guys? I am proud to announce that on Thursday, June 17, 2010, I had 103 hits! That makes me feel loved. However, nobody besides the wonderful ****96 {This chapter is dedicated to…****} decided to take 5 seconds and review! Come on folks! Let's hear some interest! First 5 people to review get a look at the next chapter! {Just like Mrs. Lautner did after she reviewed.}**

**Toodaloo! **

** -Ave)**

As I sat on an uncomfortable airplane seat I groaned, stretching my back, not sure if I could move. The plane trip had been long, from Honolulu to Seattle. _Now that_, I thought, _is a plane trip to be feared. _Despite the fact it was only 6 hours, it felt like 6 years.

Normally plane trips were almost enjoyable to me, but I had never ridden alone. I was shaking from take off to touchdown.

I stepped off the plane, breathing in deeply, with only a large backpack as luggage. Our family had never been rich, but after selling everything, including the house, my brother and I got 175,000 each. In the overall scheme of things it wasn't much in most places, but I knew in Forks I would seem like a millionaire.

But anyways, until all that happened, I was going to live with my Godfather, Billy Black, and his wife Sue. They also had an adopted son Michel, the son of some deceased "tribe" member. I can't remember much about their other son. I think he was in South America.

Continuing on, my mother had been good- no great friends with Rachel Black, Billy's daughter. I looked forward to seeing Rachel and her three boys, Aaron, Brett, and Sean, all whom were around my age. Aaron and Sean were twins, both 17, and Brett was 25. Rachel's husband, Paul was really funny too, and a total jokester. He was close to 48 now.

I walked out of the airport, thinking to myself, when three sets of big, muscle-filled arms grabbed me in a bear hug. _Think of the devil…_ I thought coyly.

"Thank you, thank you." I giggled, looking up at the boys. "Really though, one at a time!" I tried to glare at the nearest of the tricksters, Aaron, but I couldn't make an angry expression when I was so happy to see them.

"Brett, Aaron, Sean! Get off!" I finally untangled myself from the mess of limbs, and they straightened up. I tapped my foot, trying to appear annoyed.

"Sorry!" They chorused, failing miserably at sounding sincere.

"You better be!" I warned. They laughed and swung me around easily, although I was three years older then two of them.

"I hate you all." I grumbled. They just laughed and steered me to a beat-up pickup and climbed in. It was a tight squeeze, but it had two rows, so I survived. If I had been 6"2 instead of 5"2 however, it would've been a different story.

On the way to La Push it was twenty questions. How are you, what's up, when's your birthday, how long are you staying…etc. I answered all of them and fired back a question right back at them.

We finally arrived, with almost the whole community coming out to see me. I laughed as Paul cracked some jokes, and Sue showed me her beautiful ring. I smiled and laughed so much my mouth became sore.

I embraced everyone, including Cassie. She sidled up to me her hands on her hips and said, "Oh so all the handsome boys get a hug, but not me?" I turned to her and screeched, wrapping my arms around her and yelping happily.

I continued visiting and enjoying myself until almost 9pm, when I drove with Sue and Billy back to their house. They already had the spare room set up for me, and I set up my backpack on the chair by the window, and laid on my bed, too tired to get undressed. I closed my eyes, and the last thing I heard was a wolf howling.


	4. Chapter 3

(AUTHOR'S PLEA FOR FORGIVENESS)

O'Almighty readers…I am unworthy of your amazing kindness you constantly show me…I have been lacking in my quest to fulfill your reading desires by stupidly being busy with other things! PLEASE FORGIVE ME AND ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!

* * *

When I awoke, I was sweating profusely, and panting like a dog. I couldn't help but shudder as I recalled my dreams from what seemed to be seconds ago. All I could remember clearly was yellow, predatory eyes and an overwhelming feeling of undiluted _terror_…And yet desires to continue forward despite…my instincts?

I shook my head, my spiked hair not moving, reminding me of my split-second decision to crop off about 18 inches of long silky black hair. Now I had a super-short pixie. I rubbed my hand through it absentmindedly. I liked it short. I could feel my neck lifting up after years of heavy Hair pulling my head down.

I lifted my arm and sniffed my armpit. I winced. I smelled terrible. I shook my head and trudged into my small adjoining bathroom. I had a small shower, but a large sink, perfect for toiletries. Sue knew I liked room for my "pretty-making" time. I grabbed my bag of necessities out of my suitcase and rummaged around until I found my shampoo and conditioner. The shower was much quicker then normal, but I based that on my lack of hair.

After the shower I felt much better. I dressed quickly in my favorite skort (skirt w/ shorts) and a black turtleneck. I twirled around and executed some of my kendo moves. I smirked into the mirror as I placed my foldable practice saber into my pocket.

I may have grown up in Hawaii, but I had taken several lessons in Japanese sword fighting, as my dad had wanted me to be prepared in case anything happened-I stopped myself mid-thought. I choked back the tears that threatened to overflow as my all-too clear memories flashed too many occasions I didn't want to remember back to me.

No. I shook my head and wiped my eyes and stared back at myself defiantly. I had put that behind me. I remembered my father's advice, "Crying is nice for a moment, but the only way you'll recover is to grab a tissue and move forward!" I chuckled wetly and walked out of my room into the hall, looking at the many pictures on the walls. I could figure out who most of the people in the pictures were, except for two people. One was a beautiful young woman with chocolate brown hair and a lovely smile, and another man with black cropped hair staring adoringly at the young woman. I stopped at one in particular, a close-up of the young man, and brushed my fingertips at across the old faded photograph. He was beautiful.

I continued walking after a minute or two, and glanced into the bedrooms alongside mine as I walked through. I froze suddenly and backtracked quickly. One room in particular was not as unoccupied as I had thought. I tiptoed into the room, confused by the sleeping form. I wasn't aware that the Black's had another guest.

As I got closer, I was mesmerized by his (the visitor was most DEFINITELY male.) slow, rhythmic breathing. I stared at his face unabashedly, studying his strong jaw and long lashes, as well as his dark, thick hair, much like my own. I gasped as I recognized him from the photo. Then covered my mouth as the man rustled at the sound.

I was frozen in place as he slowly opened his eyes, blinking drowsily. His eyes came to rest on me and widened in shock as he bolted upright, now completely awake.

"Renesmee?"

* * *

(I know…that was mean of me…But too bad. You'll deal with it.

Continuing on, I will answer anyone's theory of

What just happened there?

Why it happened?

What is going to happen next?

BUT ONLY IF IT'S IN REVIEW FORM!

Thank you and Merry Christmas.

{Any sawwy for the shortie...:( }


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